Goodnight Love
by perxephne
Summary: After becoming separated from Negan at the beginning of the outbreak, Imogen is forced to fight not just for her life, but that of their daughter's too. But when her path crosses with Rick Grimes, Imogen thinks she can finally leave the past behind, only to find their future together might just end in all out war... {AU}.
1. PART ONE: Down This Yellow Brick Road

**Author's Note:** _Bury My Heart_ (Rick/OC) and _Hide Your Fires_ (Negan/OC) are AU stories that diverge from _Goodnight Love _but can be read as standalones, and can be found under the 'My Stories' section of my profile. Videos for characters canon and original, can be found on my Youtube channel via the link on my profile.

* * *

'I desire the things that will destroy me in the end.'

**Sylvia Plath**

* * *

...'and the love, whatever it was, an infection'...

**Anne Sexton**

* * *

**Down This Yellow Brick Road**

"Imo, can you handle this order?" Sara said between violent coughs. "Sorry" -

\- "Hey, just get yourself a glass of water, alright," Imogen interrupted, going over to Table 3, sidestepping Zoe armed with a plate of waffles. "I'll take this."

"Thanks," Sara said gratefully, rushing off, clamping her hand over her mouth as she moved.

The elegantly dressed old woman occupying Table 3 glanced up as Imogen came over. "Could I have a lemonade with ice, please?" she asked politely, putting the menu down. "I am positively parched."

"Sure, sugar," Imogen chirped, her cheeks aching with having smiled all day, Lula-Mae always ready to lambast her waitresses for wearing less than a fifty-watt smile. "I'll rustle it up, pronto."

"Oh, you're English?" the old woman said with some surprise, assessing Imogen over the edge of her aviators. "What part of London do you hail from?"

Imogen bit her lip. "I used to live in Kent," she said, passing over the old woman's automatic assumption every English person was from London, having encountered this attitude too many times before, "but I was born in GA" -

\- "Imo, can you give me a hand with Table 6?" Casey cut in, looking harassed. "Major spillage goin' down – Tiana's gonna mop the floor but the table is a whole other tale." She moved on, coughing harshly into the crook of her elbow, making Imogen frown.

"I'll need to postpone my life-story," Imogen apologized to the old woman, "if you'll excuse me."

"Take your time," the old woman said, picking up the menu to peruse again.

Imogen nodded, tucking her pen in her ponytail, before making her way over to the counter. "Dana," she said, "could you pass me some kitchen roll? Table 6 is currently flooded."

"Sure," Dana said, ringing up the till as she threw Imogen the kitchen roll at the same time, "but I thought Casey was handlin' that order."

"She's coughing her guts up," Imogen answered, "and so's Sara. I hope they're not coming down with something."

"What, that flu?" Dana said darkly. "No point, beatin' about the bush, honey. Say it as it is."

Imogen just raised her eyebrows, before going over to Table 6, making short work of wiping up the table-top, promising the errant family free refills all round. She hurriedly collected their wet plates and cutlery, before beating a retreat, edging her way around Zoe again and the heavily laden tray she was now brandishing.

"Table 6," Imogen said to Tiana as she passed her, "but be careful, floor's slippy."

"Thanks," Tiana said, saluting Imogen with her mop, "don't want to end up on my ass."

"Been there, done that," Imogen sing-songed as Lula-Mae sashayed past, all hairspray and high heels.

"Are my girls workin' hard?" Lula-Mae shot over her shoulder at Imogen as she headed into the kitchen.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I hope so," Lula-Mae retorted, the double-doors swinging shut behind her.

"Bitch," Imogen muttered under her breath, earning a sympathetic eye-roll from Casey.

"Tell me about it," Casey then said from between coughs, pulling out her notebook, heading over to Table 5. "Thanks for coverin' me, hun."

"Maybe you should see a doctor about that," Imogen suggested, "sounds bad."

"S'alright, I got it under control."

"Yeah and I'm Taylor Swift," Zoe hissed to Imogen as she veered around her, "sounds like she's got the goddamn Black Death from where I'm standin'."

Imogen nodded, but left it that, all too aware of the animosity that existed between Zoe and Casey, not wanting to be seen taking sides.

"Nice lookin' boy," Dana observed as Imogen swept past, dumping the plates and cutlery down on the counter, "I like 'em clean-cut."

"Who's clean-cut?" Imogen said distractedly, filling up three tall boy glasses in quick succession, before setting them down on her tray.

"Sheriff's deputy from King County," Dana said, nodding at the small television perched on the shelf just above Imogen's head, "got shot attendin' a high-speed chase just there."

Imogen glanced up at the television screen, catching a fleeting glimpse of a photograph showing a man wearing the light brown police uniform of King County, along with its traditional cowboy hat. His face was stern; his piercing eyes very blue against the background of his tan, but something about the curve of his mouth suggested a hidden sense of humour.

"What's happenin'?" Zoe asked, following the path of Imogen's stare, setting her tray down upon the counter.

"Breakin' news," Dana drawled, taking the tray, "sexy sheriff's deputy has just been shot in the line of duty."

"Shame on you," Zoe said, rolling her eyes, "poor guy's wife must be beside herself."

"Must be excitin' though," Dana said as Imogen hurriedly poured out the lemonade**, **"bein' married to a man of the law."

"Wouldn't be me," Imogen said abruptly, unceremoniously chucking some ice cubes into the glass, before picking up her trays, "now if you'll excuse me, I've got tables to see to."

* * *

"Hello baby girl," Imogen said, taking a long drag, "how's my little chicken?" She exhaled the smoke out of the corner of her mouth as Tess babbled on, Imogen making out something about a picture she was drawing. "A house?" she said, glancing up as somebody went past, coughing violently, making her draw back from them. "Is it our house? No? Oh, it's a Barbie house?"

As Tess talked on, Imogen leant against the wall, switching her cell to her other ear, struggling to keep up with Tess's stream of consciousness. "You're a meow-meow now?" she said, brow furrowing. "A big meow-meow?" She glanced at her watch, seeing she only had five minutes of her break left. "Mama has to go now, chicken," she said, her voice cracking. "I'll see you later, okay? No, Dada won't be there. Be a good girl. Mama loves you lots and lots."

She hung up on Tess's protests, closing her eyes as she did. Tess was beginning to question the way they were living, why her father didn't stay in the same house as them, why he disappeared for weeks at a time. So far Imogen had been able to evade giving a straight answer, but the time would soon come when only the truth would suffice.

Her cell pinged, Imogen checking the screen, only to see Ciara, her child-minder, had texted her a photograph of Tess with her face painted like a cat's, her small hand clutching Sparkles, the stuffed unicorn she'd had since she was a baby. For a long moment, Imogen just stood there, studying Tess's face, seeing nothing of herself, only Negan. When she'd been born, she'd looked exactly like a baby pirate, dark-haired and sallow-skinned, her green eyes crinkling roguishly at the corners. But when she smiled, the resemblance between father and daughter became pronounced, Tess inheriting his dimples and wide grin. But Tess was worth all the guilt and deceit, the only good thing she and Negan had ever done.

After hastily texting a smiley face back to Ciara in lieu of thanks for the photo, Imogen hesitated, before suddenly forwarding the picture onto Negan. He was on one of his disappearing streaks, only turning up out of the blue to see Tess, before vanishing into the void once more. To her surprise, her cell suddenly started ringing, Negan's number flashing up on the screen. Again, she hesitated before answering it, bracing herself as she did.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself."

"I thought you would be teaching at this time."

"Free period."

"Oh."

"Nice picture."

"Yeah."

"What the fuck is she meant to be though? A tiger? Like Tess the Tiger?"

"No, she's meant to be a cat, or a meow-meow as she calls it."

"What else did she say?"

"That she was drawing a picture of a Barbie house."

"It's all she fucking talks about, Barbie this, Barbie that."

"She's only a toddler. She's hardly going to discuss world politics with you."

"Keep your fucking hair on, I was just messing."

"Okay, fine, whatever you say."

"Oh, c'mon don't be like that, Imo."

"Be like what?"

"Getting on your fucking high horse, that's what."

"And screw you too."

"Lighten up, kid. Jeesh, what is it with women?"

"What is it with men? Or more specifically, what is it with you?" There was a long silence, Negan exhaling sharply, making Imogen lean her forehead against the wall. "It's been weeks, Negan," she said abruptly. "What's the deal?"

"You seen me on Saturday when I picked up Tess."

"You know what I mean."

"I... I can't get away, kid, not just now."

"Why the hell not!?"

"Lucille..."

Imogen tilted her head back, fighting the sudden tears threatening to fall. Lucille was usually off-limits, Negan almost always never talking about her, but she was always present regardless. "Oh, it's Lucille, is it," she hissed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, "why _her _all of a sudden" -

\- "She's my _wife_" -

\- "Yeah, and I'm just your whore" -

\- "She's sick, okay!? So I had to fucking be there for her, not screwing around with you!"

Imogen closed her eyes, exhausted by his emotional bullshit. Despite his denials, he had probably been seeing yet another piece of skirt on the side, only coming back to her bed when he got bored. "What do you mean she's ill?" she said wearily, checking her watch again.

"I... I just mean she's ill. It wouldn't be the first time."

"What?"

"I said she's been ill before, so let's just fucking leave it at that" -

\- "Yeah, maybe we should. I don't think I can be bothered listening your bullshit anymore" -

\- "I'm not fucking lying about my own wife being ill!" -

\- "It sure sounds like it" -

\- "Oh, does it!?" -

\- "If she was so ill before, like she is now, I would know, and we wouldn't be having this conversation" -

\- "I didn't tell you before because you'd just come out of the hospital" -

\- "Don't bring that up" -

\- "I'm not" -

\- "You just did" -

\- "I'm just trying to fucking explain that my wife is _sick_" -

\- "What does that even mean, Negan, that's she's sick? Is she throwing up sick? Is she broken leg sick" -

\- "She – she's just been getting these migraines, okay? It's not serious, it's just" -

\- "Oh my God, this takes the fucking biscuit, Negan. Of all the excuses you've ever inflicted upon me, this has to crown them all" -

\- "For fuck's sake" -

\- "You're actually throwing me over because your wife happens to have a bloody_ headache_" -

\- "You're giving me a fucking headache!" -

Imogen cut him off, staring at the screen, waiting for him to call back like he always did.

He didn't.

_Me and the baby and you side by side__  
__We all knew we was in for a long hard ride…_

* * *

"Mama! Mama!"

Imogen turned around, only to see Carol, her daughter Sophia and Tess heading in her direction, the sight making Imogen hastily hide her cell in the front pocket of her denim jacket. She had called Negan repeatedly over the course of the day, her pride going before a fall as it always did. But he hadn't answered, each call going straight to voicemail. "Hey baby," she said as Tess toddled over to her, brandishing a plastic fairy wand held together with sellotape, Sparkles tucked under her arm, "where did you come from?"

"Fwom Faiwyland," Tess said solemnly, tapping Imogen on the knee with her wand, "now you is a pwincess."

"Oh, wow!"

"Now kiss Spawkles," Tess ordered, holding the unicorn aloft. "She missed you."

Imogen obliged. "Ups-a-daisy now, chicken," she sing-songed, lifting Tess up, balancing her on her hip. "Hey," she said to Carol as she drew level, "thanks for picking her up such short notice." She'd had to work late, covering for Casey who'd finally been sent home by Lula-Mae, and Imogen's brother hadn't been able to pick Tess up from the child-minder, having to sort out a burst pipe at the bar he ran.

"No problem," Carol said, adjusting the strap of her handbag, "with Ed away, I'm at a loose end."

Imogen just nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Two days away from Ed had already done wonders for Carol, her stance straight instead of hunched, Carol looking Imogen straight in the eye rather than avoiding it. The Peletier family lived across the road, Ed holding himself aloof from everyone, not encouraging his wife to make friends with the neighbours either. But after Carol had stopped Tess from running out in front of a car, an odd friendship had sprung up between the two women despite their disparity of age, finding common ground in their mutual loneliness.

"How are you, Sophia?" Imogen asked, smoothing Sophia's blonde hair back. "How was school today?"

"I'm fine, ma'am," Sophia said, shifting from one foot to the other, "school was okay."

"How's your brother?" Carol asked. "Did he manage to get the pipe get fixed?"

"Yeah," Imogen said distractedly, trying to stop Tess from ramming the wand in her face, "it's sorted out but the bloody idiot didn't wait for me to take a look at it. Now we have to pay for the plumber and I don't know if it will be covered by the insurance."

"Does Kit even have insurance?" Carol frowned, taking the wand from Tess.

"I don't know," Imogen admitted, "but money's bloody tight just now, so I hope so. I told him to find the stop valve and switch the water off until I could get to the bar, but he didn't listen."

"Whewe's Dada?" Tess demanded, glancing about her. "I want Dada!"

"Daddy's at work," Imogen lied, but Tess wasn't having any of it, wriggling impatiently in Imogen's arms.

"I want Dada!" Tess started to scream, kicking her legs. "I want Dada!"

"He's not here" -

\- "No! No! I _want _Dada!"

"Can I owe you that coffee, Carol?" Imogen said with some difficulty. "She's not going to stop now she's started."

"Sure, don't worry about it," Carol said, taking Sophia's hand, "and good luck," she added, nodding at Tess, who was now throwing herself from side to side, "I think you're going to need it."

"If she's anything like her father, I will."


	2. Not Sure If I Could

**Not Sure If I Could**

"Can I have me a slice of pecan pie?" -

\- "I want pancakes and maple syrup, with a large soda" -

\- "Hashbrowns, all the way, man" -

-"A scaldin' coffee with toast, lightly done" -

\- "A side salad and a glass of water at _room temperature, _okay?" -

\- "Waffles like Mama used to make" -

\- "A side helping of fries with a bottle of Coca-Cola - the glass bottle, not the plastic" -

\- "An ice-cream sundae with raspberry sauce" -

\- "Make mine butterscotch" -

-"Sure, coming right up," Imogen cut in with a forced smile, tucking her pen into her ponytail, "I'll just go and get your drinks first."

"Remember," one of the girls drawled, "I want my water at _room temperature_."

"I heard you the first time," Imogen said coolly, before turning on her heel and stalking into the kitchen, ignoring Dana's warning glance. She'd had a sleepless night over Negan, even more so over Tess, the little girl wanting to sleep in Imogen's bed instead of her own, Imogen giving in for the sake of some shut-eye. "Here," she exploded, startling José the cook as she slammed down the order onto the counter, "have luck conjuring this little lot up. I'm done."

"You're not done for another ten minutes, darlin'," Lula-Mae retorted, rounding on her, "so get your lil English ass back out there, do ya hear me?"

Imogen's jaw tightened. "Sorry," she said, choking down her ire, "I'll get on it." She had started her shift ten minutes early so she could leave ten minutes early, but in hindsight, she should have known better than to try and best the timetable Lula-Mae so rigorously lived by.

"You shouldn't even be in here," José snapped, re-tying his apron-strings, "you're out front, we're out back, that's the rules, lady."

"I was just bringing through the order" -

\- "You pass the order through the window," José said with the air of addressing an imbecile, "and when it's ready, we ding the bell, and then you collect it from out front, okay?"

As Imogen opened her mouth to argue, Lula-Mae cut across her. "Just get out front with my other girls," she ordered, jerking her chin impatiently at the double-doors, "and don't push your luck like this again. Cassie said ya were a hard worker, and so far, so good but I took ya on trust, princess, so don't screw it up, okay?"

Imogen nodded, biting her lip. Ever since Cassie Haines had shut down Daisy's Diner to move up north, she had been bussing tables at the Prom Queen Pit-Stop for the past two months, Cassie having put in a good word for her with Lula-Mae. However, she'd had one too many run-ins with Lula-Mae over petty trivialities, ranging from not having a perky enough ponytail to the way she wiped down tables, and she knew she was probably on borrowed time before Lula-Mae kicked her to the kerb.

But that was then, and this was now, and so Imogen gritted her teeth, pulled out the pen from her ponytail and went back to work.

* * *

Imogen slammed the front door shut, locking it with impatient fingers. She hung up her key on the nail, before navigating her way down the narrow hall, trying not to trip up on the trail of toddler debris Tess always left behind her. Shoving Tess's buggy to the side, she paused in front of the mirror, not liking what was looking back, her face pale and strained, with dark circles etched under her eyes.

"Is that you, Imo?" Kit called from the living room.

"No, it's Eleanor Roosevelt," Imogen called back, rolling her eyes as she came through the door.

"And it's nice to see you too."

"Not so nice to see you though."

"So, how was the slave labour, then?" Kit asked, setting down his coffee. "Another halcyon day in paradise?"

"Shut up," Imogen snapped, throwing her red and black plaid backpack onto the sofa. "Lula-Mae was on my back all day and Sara called in sick, Casey too. I think they've got that flu that's going round."

"Well, what transgressions did you commit today?" Kit said, switching the television off. "Go on, I'm all ears."

"I went into the kitchen," Imogen said, exhaling sharply, "when I probably shouldn't have, petty as it is. But everything else... apparently I don't smile correctly, whatever that means. My ponytail was lopsided. Then my skirt wasn't short enough" -

\- "I would say your skirt was _more_ than short enough," Kit flared up, "the next dickhead that pervs at you, I'm going to break their nose, I'm not kidding."

"Really?" Imogen scoffed. "You're about as intimidating as an ice cream cone."

Kit flushed hotly. "Well," he said stiffly, "the point is I don't want my sister flashing her arse to all and sundry, alright?"

"I do that every time I bloody bend over," Imogen said dryly as she shrugged off her battered denim jacket, "which probably accounts for the sudden spike in tips each time I do."

"Well, we're certainly not reaping the rewards of it," Kit said with a disdainful glance at Imogen's skimpy bright yellow uniform, its thigh-high hem making his brows knit together. "I'm having to cover the leccy and gas this month, for the second time running" -

\- "You know damn well Lula-Mae insists on taking the lion's share of everyone's tips, not just mine," Imogen said, rounding on him, "and it's not my fault she's cut my hours down this month. She had me cover Casey yesterday though, but I'm not going to get paid for that apparently, said it was _unforeseen circumstances_. But she's swearing uphill and down dale she'll make it up to me" -

\- "Pretty promises aren't going to pay the rent, Imo," Kit said tiredly, "I know it's not your fault, but your wage is the only steady income that we've got coming in" -

\- "What do you mean?" Imogen said, tensing up. Between them both, they barely scratched out a living, and she still had to pay for the child-minder for this month, Kit painfully pulling together the down payment for a car, a second-hand station-wagon that looked like it was ready to fall apart any second.

"I've got a gig tonight," Kit said uneasily, jerking his chin at his wig and guitar case in the corner, relics of the rock tribute band he played in when he wasn't overseeing the bar, "but Garry was saying on the phone there, just before you came in, that he doesn't think he can get any more gigs for the time being."

"What?"

"He's blaming this flu thing," Kit said, rumpling up his dark curls, "bookings are down to nearly nothing."

"So what will you do then?"

"There's always the bar" -

\- "What, that bloody blackhole you keep pouring money down?" Imogen scoffed. "You should really give that up. It's not going anywhere" -

\- "Well, it's the only thing I've got left to keep the wolf from the door," Kit retorted, "especially now Lover Boy's child maintenance payments are about as regular as rainbows" -

\- "He's working two fucking jobs" -

\- "So am I!" -

\- "No, you were, until like two seconds ago" -

\- "No shit, Sherlock" -

\- "Look, Negan's giving me what he can," Imogen said, pushing the hair out of her eyes, "but he's got those medical bills to pay on top of everything else" -

\- "In that case, then, maybe he shouldn't have forked out a small fortune for that monstrosity of a doll's house for Tess's birthday" -

\- "He got it cheap" -

\- "Are you calling four hundred dollars worth of pink wood cheap?" Kit said incredulously. "It's almost as big as me, and where the hell are we going to put it, eh? You can barely swing a cat in Tess's room as it is"-

\- "We'll deal with it when it arrives, alright?" Imogen said, flinging herself down on a sagging chair. "The birthday party isn't until next week. I'll speak to Negan about it, then." She busied herself with flipping through _TV Guide_, hiding her growing fear over Negan's finances, suspecting he was up to his ears in debt, but whenever she tried to broach the subject, he shut her down, his silences more damning than any denials.

"Or maybe you can speak to Negan when he brings Tess back tonight," Kit said, his jaw tightening.

"What?" Imogen said, straightening up. "He was here? He has Tess?"

"Ciara brought her back early this afternoon," Kit said, half closing his eyes, "lucky I was here. She handed in her notice though. I had to pay her what was outstanding - she's been more than patient considering how long she's had to wait for the cheques to come through, but it means no car now, and then Negan turned up out of the blue. I was going to tell him to fuck off, but I couldn't, not with Tess there" -

\- "Wait," Imogen said, not understanding, "why did Ciara hand in her notice?"

"She's having to upsticks to Toccoa," Kit explained, "Ciara just got the call there and had to drop everything. Her mother's came down with this flu, and so has her sister and three kids. It's pretty serious though - they've all been carted off to hospital and are under quarantine. The doctors think it's a new strain that's emerging, so they have to contain it. "

"Jesus Christ."

"You're preaching to the choir, man. That's all we need, a new super-flu to contend with."

"But who's going to look after Tess during the day?"

"More like how are we going to pay somebody to look after Tess during the day?" Kit countered. "Tell me, because I sure as hell don't know."

"Don't suggest daycare."

"I wasn't going to."

"I'm not going to pour money down the drain when the place could close at any minute if the government passes that damned bill about effectively managing public spaces to lessen the spread of contagion."

Kit stared at her, surprised. "So there is a brain in there after all," he mocked, tapping his temple. "Ickle Imogen is all grown up now. Watch me shed a tear."

"I do actually listen to the news, bozo."

"Well, it's not actually just daycare that could go kaput," Kit pointed out. "The diner could go, the bar too, then Lover Boy's school, his precious car showroom" -

\- "Never mind that, where did Negan take Tess?" Imogen interrupted, feeling the walls beginning to close in on her. "What time is he bringing her back? He can't just turn up out of the blue and whisk her off without a by-your-leave."

"Doesn't he always do that when he's in the midst of furrowing his plough in pastures anew?" Kit said, making Imogen chuck a cushion at his head. "Oi!" he yelled, ducking out of the way. "You know it's true" -

\- "Just tell me where he's taken her, dickhead!"

"Apparently baseball practice was cancelled," Kit said, rolling his eyes, "this flu again, so Negan decided to rock up here and take Tess for a Happy Meal. He said he'd bring her back before seven"-

\- "He better" -

\- "He better back off, Imogen," Kit said, getting to his feet, "I don't want that tosser coming anywhere near this house again, do you hear me?"

\- "He's Tess's father" -

\- "He's a _married_ man" -

\- "Don't start that again" -

\- "That bastard knocked you up, not once, but twice," Kit hissed, "and he only had the decency to tell you he was married after the first time, and then he refused to leave his wife the second time" -

\- "Don't, Kit" -

\- "But we've all to forgive him for his sins because he's slaving himself into the ground to pay for your medical bills," Kit retorted, "as though that can make up for the miscarriage nearly killing you"-

\- "For God's sake, Kit," Imogen cried, getting to her own feet, "can you not at least meet him half way? That's what he's trying to do with you. He gave you a massive discount on that car" -

\- "A piece of fucking junk that we can't even afford to buy now" -

\- "That's not his fault," Imogen snapped. "You keep blaming him for _everything_" -

\- "Is he ever going to leave his wife and do the right thing by you and Tess?" Kit said, silencing her. "No, he isn't. He's just having his cake and eating it, Imo. He's screwing his wife over, and he's screwing you over. But you know who the real victim is? It's not his wife, not you, but _Tess_."

* * *

Imogen swung her legs to and fro, passing the lighter between her hands, her cell phone lying silent beside her. It was twenty past eight, Negan still a no-show, his own cell still switched off, going straight to voicemail each time she called. But it wasn't the first time he'd been late bringing Tess back, Imogen hanging around for hours at a time until he rolled up, always armed with a lame excuse.

From her vantage point atop the wall that divided her front yard from the sidewalk, she could see Carol bustling about her kitchen, the upstairs light on, signalling Sophia was in her bedroom, all reminding Imogen she still owed Carol that coffee for picking up Tess yesterday. Exhaling sharply, Imogen resumed watching the top of the road, waiting for Negan's car to turn into their street.

She had been nineteen when she'd first met Negan, just after she and her grandmother had moved from Marietta to Decatur, Kit moving to Carthsville, two towns over. Until Negan's arrival, she'd simply been drifting through life working in a series of dead end jobs, her future holding no focus. After her parents had died in a car crash when she was fifteen, she had left England for America, travelling to Georgia to live with her maternal grandmother, forced to start a new life in a country she hadn't been in since she was a baby.

Negan had come into the truck-stop she'd been working in at the time, capturing Imogen's attention as soon as he'd swaggered through the door. He'd ordered a Coke and fries, his caustic charm amusing Imogen against her will, and by the time he paid his bill, she'd found herself scrawling her phone number on a napkin with black eyeliner pencil, discreetly slipping it into his jacket pocket as he left.

The fact he was old enough to be her father hadn't perturbed her. She was used to taking what she wanted, and Negan was no different, neither caring about the consequences. In the early days of their affair, they had met in motels out of town, Imogen enjoying the illicit thrill, only looking to slake her lust above everything else, blinding her to blunt reality. She hadn't known Negan was married until three months later, when she'd found out she was pregnant with Tess, but in hindsight, she knew she shouldn't have been surprised.

Her churchgoing grandmother had disowned her, throwing her out of the family home, Kit stepping into the breach, taking Imogen in. Three years on, her grandmother still hadn't relented, refusing to practise what she preached, unable to forgive Imogen for fornicating with a married man. Kit was the only one still in contact with her, and she'd told him outright that she would never acknowledge Tess's existence, Imogen unable to bear the insult, not seeing why Tess should suffer for her parents' sins.

Negan's mother lived in Virginia and had only seen Tess twice; once when Tess was born, and secretly the previous Christmas during a rare visit to Negan and Lucille. Each visit had been strained, the tension between Negan and his mother palpable, the situation only serving to make it worse. From what Imogen had been able to garner, Negan had all but been neglected, his childhood loveless and lonely. But even as he resented his mother, he still seemed oddly anxious to gain her approval, even naming his daughter Teresa after her.

Glancing at her still silent cell, Imogen impatiently pushed the hair out of her eyes, trying to forget what Kit had said earlier, his words now preying on her mind. She knew Negan would never leave Lucille, that she would always be second-best. As for Lucille, Imogen swung between guilt and hate, but hate most of all; not just for herself but also Lucille for holding first place in Negan's heart.

She had only ever seen Lucille once by accident, just before she'd left Decatur, a tall, striking looking woman in her late thirties, with high cheekbones and softly curling amber hair. Negan had said Lucille knew nothing of Imogen, that she accepted his excuses for his erratic absences without a murmur, Negan not divulging the truth to Imogen that Lucille didn't give a damn, not anymore, Imogen oblivious to this, believing Lucille to be a loyal, loving wife, deluded in her devotion.

Regardless of Lucille's indifference, Negan's main concern was ensuring his wife never learned of Tess, knowing this would hurt her when a million mistresses couldn't. One night, in a rare moment of vulnerability, he'd told Imogen that he and Lucille couldn't have children, that she'd miscarried several times and umpteen IVF attempts hadn't worked. Knowing he had a child with another woman would destroy her.

But the chances of Lucille finding out about Tess were slim, Imogen leaving town before her pregnancy began to show, cutting her ties by putting distance between herself and everything she knew. As for her grandmother, she was too anxious of her high standing in the community to let anything slip; Negan's mother not interested enough to interfere with her son's marriage.

A car horn honked, making Imogen's head snap up, relief coursing through her as Negan drew up next to the sidewalk, dimming the car lights. Straightening her spine, she stuffed her cell into her pocket, determined to keep her cool.

"Mama, it's meeeeeee!" Tess cried, staggering towards Imogen on her small legs. "I'm me!"

"I know, baby," Imogen said, heart catching in her throat despite herself as Negan came forwards, his dark face unreadable.

"Dada told me a stowy!"

"Did he now?"

"It was my favouwite stowy evew!"

"Let me guess... did it have a dog in it?"

"Yeah, lots of doggies!"

"Was it... was it the story where Dada saved all the stray dogs?"

"Yeah!"

"Goddamn those fucking stray dogs," Negan muttered under his breath, wishing he had never told Tess the tale, the toddler wanting it repeated over and over again. "I'm sick to death of hearing about them."

"I wanna a doggie!"

"Maybe later, baby."

Tess stared up at her, dark brows drawing together. "Why is you on the wall, Mama?" she then asked, confused, clutching Sparkles to her chest. "Is you climbing? I want to climb too!"

"Not tonight, Shrimp," Negan said, halting her with his hand. "Maybe some other time."

Tess glowered up at Negan, Negan glowering back, making Imogen smile despite herself. He glanced up, holding Imogen's gaze for a long moment, making her spine stiffen. She had never believed that lust and loathing could possibly co-exist, but that had been before she'd met Negan, before now.

"Go into the house, Teresa," Negan said offhandedly, "I need to talk to your mother."

"No!"

"I s_aid_, I need to talk to your goddamn mother!"

"She don't wanna talk to you," Tess protested, "she talk to me!"

"She'll talk to you later," Negan said, ushering Tess along. "Now move your ass!"

"You move youw ass, Dada!" Tess retorted, digging her heels in. "Move that fat ass along, you is blocking the woad!"

"Wow, she truly is her father's daughter," Imogen observed, earning a glare from Negan.

"Hey, what's all the shouting about?" Kit asked from behind them. "Oh, it's you," he said from between gritted teeth upon seeing Negan, "why should I be surprised?"

"And it's good to see you, too, Christopher," Negan said, leaning against the gate.

"Uncle Kit-Kat!" Tess cried, rushing forwards, only to nearly fall flat on her face, Kit catching her just in time. "I has a Happy Meal! With fwies! And a fizzy dwink!"

"Well, you better come in and brush your teeth, then," Kit said, taking Tess by the hand. As he led her in the house, Kit shot Imogen a warning glance over his shoulder, Imogen ignoring it.

"Do you think your brother will ever lose that fucking stick he's got rammed up his ass?" Negan pretended to ponder, turning to Imogen as he spoke.

"Not as long as you're around, putting his nose out of joint."

Negan just scoffed. "Whatever, kid," he said, coming over to her, "enough about him. Are you gonna be up on that fucking wall all night?"

"Maybe."

Before she could react, Negan lifted her down, Imogen utterly powerless in his hold. "You're a little bitch, you know that?" he hissed, pinning her against the wall.

"And you're a bastard," Imogen retorted, even as her arms went up around his neck, drawing his face down to hers.

"I'm only what you make me," Negan snarled before his lips crushed hers.

_It's a sad, sad story_  
_When a mother will teach her daughter_  
_That she ought to hate a perfect stranger..._


	3. I'm Only Good At Being Bad

**I'm Only Good At Being Bad**

Imogen poked her head around the door to Carol's living room, doublechecking on Sophia and Tess, making sure the toddler was behaving herself. Tess was making Malibu Barbie mutter to Sparkles, and then making Sparkles mutter back to Malibu Barbie, Sophia sitting primly on the sofa, engrossed in brushing her own Barbie's hair.

Even as Sophia had always struck Imogen as being a little young for her age, Imogen firmly believed in children being children as long as they could, even as she had stopped bothering with dolls in any capacity by the time she was Sophia's age, being more interested in boys and make-up, having no time for toys.

"Tess, no!" Imogen cried as Tess suddenly started trying to rip off Malibu Barbie's head, making Sophia spring up from the sofa in panic. "You'll break it!"

"But Dada will buy me a new Bawbie," Tess said confused, only to yelp as Sophia snatched Malibu Barbie out of her hand, Tess trying in vain to grab it back.

"Don't touch her!" Sophia yelled at Tess. "You nearly killed her!"

"Okay, okay," Imogen said, wading into the fray, Tess beginning to bawl, "that's enough of the melodramatics."

Sophia reluctantly retreated to the sofa, clutching Malibu Barbie to her chest, looking at Tess as if she were Satan. Rolling her eyes, Imogen tried to calm Tess down, but to no avail. Exhaling sharply, she picked Tess up, the toddler violently twisting in her grip, Imogen glancing at Sophia as she did, glad the older girl was showing a bit of spirit. Usually Sophia was a shadow of who she should be, introverted to the point of almost invisibility, flinching only second to breathing. Imogen knew Ed was to thank for this. But sometimes, like now, Imogen caught glimpses of a whole other girl behind the ghost, a girl who would flourish in a world without a father she feared.

As an only child, Sophia faced no pretender to her throne, but when Tess was in her company, it was a whole other ballgame. Tess liked to pit herself against the world on a constant basis, but when Tess tried to take on Sophia, surprisingly it was Sophia who won when grown adults would give in for the sake of peace and quiet, Imogen included.

"Dada!" Tess wailed, falling back on her old failsafe. "I want Dada!"

"You don't break other people's things, do you hear?" Imogen said, setting Tess down on her feet. "Dada's not gonna bail you out of this one."

Tess's answer to this was to try and kick her on the shins, Imogen dodging out of habit.

"Don't kick, Mama!" Imogen snapped, dropping down onto her knees, removing Tess's main target. "Now what's this garble about Dada buying you a new doll!?"

Tess stared at her, caught offguard. "I's bweak my Bawbies," she said, confused, the tears glistening on her cheeks, "and then Dada buy me new ones."

"What, you break them on purpose?"

"Ye-ah."

Imogen digested this. "And why do you break them?" she tried to say calmly, ignoring Sophia's gasp of horror behind them at Tess's confession.

"Because I get bowed of my old Bawbies," Tess said simply, swaying from side to side on the spot, "and I want new Bawbies."

"Do you break the Barbies in front of Dada? He sees you doing it?"

"Ye-ah."

"And then Dada buys all these new Barbies for you?"

"Ye-ah, but he said not to tell you, that you was mad as a cat on a hot tin woof."

Imogen ignored the contradictions of a cat on a woof, only exhaling sharply at Negan's pathetic attempts at parenting. "Where are all these new Barbies, then?" she asked impatiently, pushing the hair out of her eyes.

"Dada hides them in his caw," Tess explained, as if Imogen was an imbecile, "or he hides them in my baggy and then I hide them in my woom."

"Does Dada tell you to hide them from me?"

"Ye-ah."

"How many Barbies has he bought you anyways?"

"Lots and lots but then I bweak _them_ and he buys me mowe."

"You _murderer!_" Sophia cried, now standing on the sofa, pointing at Tess dramatically.

"I is no muwder," Tess protested.

Imogen bowed her head, closing her eyes, inwardly asking God to give her strength. "Sophia, get down from there," she said tiredly, rising to her feet, "and if I were you, I would hide your dolls from freaking Lizzie Borden here."

With one last glare at Tess, Sophia leapt off the sofa, landing like a cat, ignoring Imogen's admonishment not to jump off the furniture in case she hurt herself. She stooped down, swiftly picking up the dolls, before stowing the Barbies on a high shelf, ignoring Tess's frantic attempts to snatch them from her fingers.

"No!" Tess cried, fresh tears starting to fall. "Miney!"

"No," Sophia snapped, rounding on her, "_mine_."

Tess stared at her before throwing herself onto the floor, drumming her heels into the ground. "NOOO!" she screeched, twisting from side to side. "MINEY! GIVE BACK!"

Sophia stood over her, looking bored, Imogen impressed against her will. "Are you done?" she said coolly, folding her arms across her chest. "Or are we going to be here all day?"

Tess stopped, considering her options. "Play 'Big Ladies'," she then ordered imperiously, sitting up, pouting furiously. "I be the Pwincess and you is my slave."

"No, I'm your personal hairdresser," Sophia said loftily, picking up her brush, "and I command a hefty salary."

"I's pay you millions dollars, then," Tess said, tossing her head, "and I go the ball tonight!"

Imogen left the living room, figuring it was finally safe to retreat, Sophia bossing Tess about as if she was born to it. She went into the kitchen, Carol glancing up as she came in, raising an eyebrow at the expression on Imogen's face.

"What was the fracas about?" Carol asked, hanging up the tea-towel. "Or do I want to know?"

"No, you don't."

"Tell me anyways."

Imogen made sure she sat down before launching into the sorry tale. "And so Tess has entangled Negan in some sort of Barbie conspiracy," she finished, rolling her eyes.

"Well, speaking of Negan, I seen you last night with your fancy man," Carol said sternly, picking up the coffee from Starbucks Imogen had brought over, sniffing it appreciatively, "pressed up against the wall like a common harlot."

"Really?" Imogen said, arching an eyebrow. "I never took you for a Peeping Tom, Carol."

"Well, you learn something new every day," Carol said dryly, sitting down opposite Imogen.

"Well, enough of my tangled love-life, enjoy your beverage while you can," Imogen said, leaning back in her seat, "since Starbucks doesn't look like it's going to be around much longer."

"What do you mean?"

"Half of their staff are sick," Imogen explained, "and they're done with constantly having to rehire new people, so thus Starbucks will pass into the annals of time."

"Did you pick up that expression from Kit?"

"Yes," Imogen laughed, "it's obviously too high-faluting for me to have originated it."

"I could tell," Carol said pointedly, earning another eye-roll from Imogen, "and how did you get the inside scoop on Starbucks, huh?"

"I... I was looking for gainful employment."

"But you're already in gainful employment."

"Well, _more_ gainful employment."

Carol looked at Imogen for a long moment, sensing she should drop the subject. "So what's the score with Tess's father?" she asked uneasily. "Is he back in your good books or what?"

Imogen chewed on her lower lip. "For now," she said slowly, "until the next shit-storm."

"He's never turned up on your doorstep before, has he?"

"No, staying away from each other's home turf is one of Negan's many ground rules; that we don't shit in our own backyards, as he so succinctly puts it."

"More like he doesn't want the mistress meeting the wife," Carol said astutely, "do as I say, but don't do as I do, and so on."

"I don't know who's the bigger hypocrite," Imogen scoffed, "me or Negan."

"Negan?" Carol hazarded. "He's the one with a ring on his finger after all."

"Either way, Kit's freaking out over Negan coming to the house," Imogen said tiredly, "but at the same time, whilst he's laying down the law, he's not exactly enforcing it. He just lets Negan walk all over him."

"Must run in the family."

"Hey, I'm not Negan's doormat," Imogen said, straightening up, "but he's turned me into a bloody nagging shrew so I'm not sure which is better."

"Are you going to tell him not to darken your door, then?"

"Yes," Imogen said, exhaling sharply, "and I have to also figure out how to tell him that we can't buy the car he wrangled for us, at the cost of his own commission, and also about that monstrosity of a dolls house he's bought for Tess's birthday. Kit's freaking out about that too, since there's no room for it."

"What's the car for? To hook up with Negan further afield?"

"Hardly."

"But he's clocking up a lot of miles, isn't he, going back and forth like this," Carol said, curious. "I mean, you live two towns away."

"Canton doesn't really count."

"You can't just dismiss it."

"I'm not," Imogen protested, "it's this tiny dump that just happens to lie between Decatur and Carthsville."

Carol repressed a smile, sipping her coffee instead, studying Imogen over the rim with sympathetic eyes. Deeply religious, Imogen was the type of woman she had been taught to sit in judgement upon, but Carol couldn't find it in her heart to condemn. All she seen was a lost soul, one as lost as her own, both unable to find forgiveness in an unforgiving world.

"We're going to Carther Park for the day," Imogen then said uneasily, remembering Negan's rash promise from last night, "Tess can't talk about anything else."

"Yeah, she was telling Sophia that she was going to hunt lions," Carol said, amused despite everything. "That baby has a huge imagination."

"She's a real daddy's girl," Imogen said, taking a sip of coffee. "As soon as Negan walks in the room, I'm out of the picture."

"I bet he can charm the birds out of the trees."

"What else did you deduct from your voyeurism?"

"That he's your archetypal charming cad," Carol said lightly, "you know the type, tall, dark and handsome, old enough to be your father."

"Well, let's just say I put his experience to good use, if you get my drift."

"I assume he more than knows what to do?"

"Oh, he _knows_."

"Unlike Ed, then."

Imogen choked on her coffee. Again, with Ed away, Carol was a whole other woman. "Carol," she admonished, "I didn't know you harboured such impure thoughts."

"Well, how do you think Sophia got here?" Carol said, rolling her eyes this time. "The stork didn't just drop her down the chimney."

"I told Tess we found her in a cabbage patch."

"What, does that make her a Cabbage Kid, then?"

"Ha-ha," Imogen said sarcastically. "But what else was I supposed to tell her?"

"That her father is an asshole?"

"Still not enough to kick him out of my bed, Carol."

"We shouldn't be talking like this," Carol said, shaking her head, "or you shouldn't be. Think of that man's poor wife."

Imogen looked away. "I know," she said guiltily, "but... I can't... I just can't cut him out of my life. He's the father of my child for chrissake."

"But how long can you keep living this lie?" Carol pointed out. "Tess is getting older. She's already asking questions. What happens if you fall pregnant again? Negan can't keep playing the part-time father."

"Well, I'm not having another baby," Imogen said, shaking her head this time, "Negan's brought it up a few times, but with this flu thing and our money problems"...

Carol just stared at her. "Imogen, he's a _married _man," she said in disbelief, "he has a _wife_. There is no 'our' in this. What part of that can't you understand? You can't build a future with somebody like that. You can't raise a family with a man who is nearly never around" -

\- "I have to snatch happiness where I can," Imogen snapped, even as the words sounded hollow to her ears. Nobody could be happy with Negan, not even Negan himself probably, Imogen unable to separate the persona from the person.

"You deserve better than this, and so does Tess, and so does his wife" -

\- "Don't you think _you _deserve better?" Imogen cut across her, unable to bear having Carol echo Kit's admonishments. "Don't you deserve more than a man who beats you at the slightest provocation? That Sophia deserves a father she isn't afraid of? You have your cross to bear, and I have mine, so let's just leave it at that."

* * *

"Dada, Dada," Tess said urgently, leaning out of her buggy, straining against the straps, "look, thewe's a biwdie!"

"There's a million birdies in here, sweetheart," Negan said lazily as they walked through the unnaturally quiet park, "now sit back down on your ass."

"Dada, whewe is the lions?" Tess queried querulously, still straining against the straps. "I wanna catch them!"

"What you gonna do when you catch them, huh?" Negan said, exchanging an amused glance with Imogen. "Train them to bring you the morning paper?"

"They's eat people."

"I know."

"They's talk too."

"I think you've watched _The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe_ one too many times, kiddo," Negan said, shaking his head.

"Spawkles!"

"God, she's dropped that bloody unicorn – _again_," Imogen muttered under her breath, rushing forwards to pick it up. "Here," she said impatiently, handing it back to Tess, "drop that one more time, and Sparkles will have to sleep in my bag, alright?"

"No!"

Imogen just shook her head, ignoring Negan's mocking grin. "That's her new favourite word," she complained, falling into step beside Negan and the buggy, "no this, no that, three bags full. I am sick to death of hearing it."

"C'mon, kid," Negan said, pushing the hood back from his face, "she's just a fucking toddler, as you so conveniently pointed out to me the other day."

"What do you know, Negan?" Imogen said, rounding on him. "You're next to never there – I'm practically raising her singlehandedly."

"Who the fuck pissed in your cornflakes this morning?"

"Maybe you did."

She stalked ahead, fighting the tears threatening to fall, Negan watching her go. Exhaling sharply, he followed her, pushing the buggy at speed, making Tess crow with glee, his long stride making short work of catching up with Imogen. He'd forgone his morning off to come over to Carthsville instead of going fishing, trying to build bridges with Imogen, but all she was doing was wrecking his day as usual.

"Mama!" Tess cried, her small face becoming anxious. "Whewe is you going?"

"I'm not going anywhere, baby," Imogen said, slowing to a stop, wiping her eyes with the inside of her wrist as she did, "I'm right here."

Negan brought the buggy to a halt. "Hey, kiddo," he said, kneeling down in front of Tess, "go and play on the see-saw." He unbuckled Tess from the buggy, lifting her out, but she just stood there, watching Imogen with worried eyes, making Negan gently push her forwards. "Go and play," he said impatiently, rising to his feet, "don't let the other brats have all the fun."

"Come on, baby," Imogen said to Tess, taking her by the hand, "do you want to go on the slide first?"

"Can I go on the wound-about, please?" Tess said in a small voice, clutching Sparkles to her chest. "It goes spinny, spinny."

"Of course, baby."

Imogen led Tess over to the nearly empty play-area, where a few other children were running about, their parents and grandparents gathered by the fence. Negan watched Imogen go, jaw tightening. No matter what he did, he was always doing something wrong. He slung his arms across the back of the bench, eyes narrowing. He had wanted Imogen, and he had lied to get her in his bed, not caring about the consequences. But she had made it more than clear she wasn't looking for commitment, only a good time, until she found out she was pregnant with Tess, forcing Negan to confess he was married and had no intentions of leaving Lucille. Yet she had accepted his ultimatum, Imogen continuing the affair on her own terms, Negan going along with it for his own ends.

In hindsight, Negan knew he should have called things off with Imogen, instead of hanging around, playing happy families with his young mistress. He should have conformed to type, and fucked off. There had been others before and after Imogen, others who had came and went, happy to have him in his bed, but nothing more. He should have honoured this timeworn tradition. But he had wanted to be a part of his child's life, to be around and watch Tess grow up, and here they were, the very definition of dysfunction.

He liked the way Imogen stood up to him, giving it as good as she got. Her defiance only increased his desire. She amused him against his will. But more than anything, she needed him, Negan needing to be needed. Lucille had long since turned cold to him, the knowledge eating him from the inside out, Negan unable to deal with the rejection. Lucille was his, she was his angel, she belonged to him. He needed Lucille, but she didn't need him, not anymore.

Deep down, he knew he'd brought it on himself, but he always tried to justify his infidelity, that it was just a mistake, a slip-up. He was lonely. It would never happen again. But Lucille had listened to his excuses once too often. Time after time, she had called him out on his crassness and foul language, tolerating his foibles and failings. She had soothed his insecurities. She had buried her pain over the children they'd never have, but when he'd kept breaking his promises to keep it in his pants, she'd finally had enough, closing her bed to him, then her heart, and then her life.

As Imogen waved at Tess whirling past on the round-about, Negan watched Imogen with hooded eyes, his green gaze travelling over her too thin frame and hunched shoulders, her lank black hair falling down her back. She was a husk of what she had been, the stress of the situation taking its toll. After the miscarriage, it now felt like they were walking a tightrope, only waiting to see who would be the first one to fall. Negan knew they couldn't keep this up forever, that sooner or later his two lives would collide.

But he couldn't give up Lucille, and he wouldn't. She was his wife. And now she was ill again, Negan helpless in the face of her suffering, Lucille still exiling herself from him. He was afraid this time, something about her sickness not sitting right with him, enough to make him stop seeing Imogen so he was around for Lucille, to make sure she was okay, but she had always dismissed his concerns with a shake of the head, refusing to elaborate any further than only that she had a migraine.

She had been to the doctor's several times, and was on a course of strong painkillers, but the medication didn't seem to be making any difference. Lucille was fading away in front of his eyes, her appetite almost gone, the migraines forcing her to lie down in a darkened room for hours at a time, but even then, she wouldn't give on her work, fighting to finish the book she was writing. Local history had always been her first love, becoming her bread and butter, and then a life-line as her marriage fell apart, before holding her together as her health deteriorated.

Negan straightened up as Imogen came over, bracing himself for another bollocking. Usually her temper was a turn-on, but not now. "You come back to haul me over the fucking coals?" he asked, eyes narrowing once more. "Bad habits are hard to break, aren't they?"

"You're just one of my many sins, Negan."

"For fuck's sake, kid," Negan said, losing his cool, "can we not just call a truce, for today at least? We're supposed to be having a family day out."

"Don't make me laugh."

Negan exhaled sharply, trying to control himself. Imogen had always been the only piece of pussy that could piss him off like this. But then again she was the only piece of pussy who'd managed to sink her claws into him, messing with his head.

"I'm really not in the mood for this, Negan," Imogen said, glancing over at Tess, "you can't just waltz back here and act like nothing's wrong."

"I told you, Lucille was ill. I wasn't screwing around, not this time."

"Now we're finally getting somewhere," Imogen said, suddenly rounding on him, "now you're finally telling the fucking truth."

Negan just shrugged his shoulders. "I always come back to you, don't I?" he said simply. "Life's too short to keep to one bed."

Imogen looked away, just as suddenly losing her fire. "I can't complain, can I?" she said bitterly. "I'm no better than the next slut, am I?"

"I'm careful, kid," Negan said impatiently. "That's all you need to worry about."

"What, I should be grateful for not catching the clap?"

"Hey, you know I'm no angel and I've never pretended to be."

"Well, holy fucking fuck you too!"

Negan studied her for a long moment, running his tongue over his upper lip, almost appraising her. "Now, that's what I'm fucking talking about," he said slowly, "that's what I come back for."

"Really?" Imogen scoffed.

"Come here," Negan said in a low voice, beckoning her over with his index and middle fingers, "come to Daddy."

"Shut the fuck up," Imogen spat. "Keep that kind of talk for behind closed doors." But even as she spoke, she reluctantly went over to him, giving in as she always did. Negan pulled her down onto his lap, Imogen swinging her legs over so she was sitting sideways, Negan winding his arm around her waist.

"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"What part of shut the fuck up don't you understand?"

"Dada!" Tess yelled from the round-about. "Look at me! Spinny-spinny!"

"You're rocking that round-about, kiddo," Negan yelled back, "you are the fucking bees-knees!"

"Don't swear in front of her, Negan," Imogen snapped, "she's already in trouble with Kit for calling him an asshole last night."

"Never did speak a truer word."

"Negan!"

"Fine, I won't swear in front of the brat," Negan retorted, "only if you don't, my beautiful hypocrite."

"Fuck off."

Negan slid his hand up the back of her neck, holding her gaze as he did, making her heart stutter despite itself. "You still holding out on having another one?" he said softly, his gaze drifting to her lips. "I don't mean now, maybe next year, or even the year after, when we've properly got ourselves back on our feet. Tess would be starting school then" -

\- "No, I've not changed my mind," Imogen said, but her voice lacked conviction, wanting what he wanted, to claw back what they'd lost. But the memory of the miscarriage was still raw, holding her hostage. Yet, she remembered when Negan had first held Tess in his large hands, his gaze reverent, tears falling down his face. She hadn't recognised him in that moment, Negan becoming a stranger before her. Behind all the bombast, there was a better man, but he belonged to another woman, a woman better than her, and Imogen couldn't compete.

"Really?" Negan said quietly, his mouth meeting hers for a long moment, immobilizing Imogen.

Against her will, Imogen finally pulled away from him, heart racing. "Not now, Negan," she snapped, smoothing down her rumpled hair. "Not here."

But he didn't heed her warning, only intent on making her surrender. "You should be selling lipstick with that mouth, babydoll," he whispered, nuzzling her neck, his stubble scraping her chin, "and those eyes..." -

\- "Stop talking bullshit, Negan," Imogen hissed, tearing herself out of his hold, sick of listening to his sweet-talk, "I'm not having another baby, not while you're having your cake and eating it."

Negan straightened up, struggling to control his temper. "Oh, sweetheart," he hissed, glancing over at Tess, who was now wandering over to them, "you're my willing accomplice in all this. You had the chance to walk away and you didn't" -

\- "I was _pregnant_" -

\- "I said I would stand by you and the baby regardless. You made your bed, and now you have to lie in it, with me. But _you _chose this. I didn't force your fucking hand" -

\- "Dada!"-

\- "Maybe I chose wrong," Imogen said, rounding on him, "maybe I should have just kicked you to the kerb, right in the gutter where you belong" -

\- "And you belong there too, right beside me, kid," -

\- "Or maybe I should have taken a leaf out of your book," Imogen spat, "and hooked up with somebody else behind your back" -

\- "Da-_da!_" -

-"You do that, and I will kill the prick," Negan snarled, grabbing her wrist, hurting her, "you hear me? Rule number one, _you do not cheat on me_" -

\- "Screw your fucking rules!" -

\- "DADA!" Tess bellowed, stamping her foot. "DADA!"

"What the fuck is it!?" Negan yelled, rounding on Tess. "What the fuck do you want!?"

Tess stared at him, face shocked, chin wobbling.

Negan exhaled sharply, half closing his eyes. "God, I'm sorry, Shrimp," he said, running his hand down the side of his face, "I – I shouldn't have done that." He reached for her, but she backed away from him, clutching Sparkles. "C'mon kiddo," he said impatiently, getting to his feet, "Dada's sorry he shouted at you." He made to lift her up, only for Tess to suddenly bite him, sinking her small teeth into his hand.

"Tess, no!" Imogen admonished, even as she was inwardly applauding. "What were you told about biting people!?"

"What the fuck!?" Negan bellowed, clutching his hand. "She bites people?"

Imogen scooped Tess up. "She bit you, didn't she?" she said viciously. "Don't say you didn't deserve that."

* * *

_I like it when you take control_  
_Even if you know that you don't_  
_Own me, I'll let you play the role_  
_I'll be your animal..._

Humming quietly to herself, Imogen straightened Tess's row of picture books, pausing for a moment to admire her handiwork, having put up the shelf herself a few weeks back. She then bent down and tidied away Tess's Barbie dolls, stowing them away in the toy-box, not sure if they were the ones Negan had bought, each Barbie blending into the other. If she were to confiscate the dolls, Tess would have a meltdown, but then again, she couldn't encourage Tess's bad behaviour by letting her get away with breaking her toys so.

Exhaling sharply, she made her way over to the window-seat, fluffing up the pink cushions before sitting down, checking the child-lock on the window out of habit. She took a moment to catch her breath, listening to Negan roaring with laughter from the living room, accompanied by Tess's crows of delight, the sound making Imogen lean her head back against the glass. With Kit away at the bar all day, Imogen had thought it safe enough to bring Negan back to the house, Negan bribing his way back into Tess's good graces with ice cream, even as he wasn't in Imogen's.

She had reluctantly left Negan and Tess in front of the television, TV being Negan's god, Negan all for indoctrinating Tess into his religion much to Imogen's annoyance. Knowing Negan, he was probably letting Tess watch something that would give her nightmares for weeks, the thought making Imogen sigh heavily.

Biting her lip, Imogen stood up, taking one last glance around the small room, before turning and leaving. She made her way back to the living room, shoving aside Tess's buggy as she did, only to freeze in the doorway at the sight of the scene before her.

An old _Cheers _episode was blaring from the television, Negan's attention utterly riveted on the screen, Tess sitting on his lap, cheerfully plastering make-up all over his face, Imogen's make-up to be precise, painfully accrued out of the pittance she earned. It was the only luxury beside her cigarettes that she allowed herself. To add insult to injury, Negan bizarrely had a blonde wig perched precariously on his head, making him look like some freakish cross between Barbie and Pennywise.

"TESS!" Imogen yelled, rushing into the room, Negan not even bothering to glance up. "What the hell are you doing!?"

"I is making Dada pwetty, Mama," Tess pouted, holding Imogen's precious Charlotte Tilbury _Red Carpet Red_ lipstick aloft. "We is playing 'Big Ladies'."

"Dada was already pretty, Shrimp," Negan objected, craning his neck past Tess who was blocking his view, "I'm the fucking prettiest pretty boy going."

"That's my make-up," Imogen said, rounding on him, "or what's left of it!"

"Well, buy more, then," Negan said irritably, finally looking at her, "don't get your frilly panties into a fucking twist over it."

"Buy it with what!?" Imogen retorted. "Monopoly money!?"

Negan just flapped an impatient hand at her, his attention returning to the screen again, making Imogen stare at him in disbelief.

"You're an asshole, you know that!?" she spat, lifting Tess from his lap, the little girl squirming in her grip.

"Language, Miss. Alford."

"What part of asshole don't you understand!?"

"And the messed up thing is you like me anyways," Negan drawled as he got to his feet. "C'mon, Shrimp," he said, taking the wriggling Tess from Imogen, "let's take the party somewhere else."

Imogen's jaw tightened. "We need to talk, Negan," she said, struggling to keep her voice steady, "and now."

Negan studied Imogen, sucking on his teeth as he did, before reluctantly acceding. "Fine," he said abruptly, setting Tess down on the couch, Tess, loudly objecting, "we'll talk."

"No!" Tess wailed, tossing herself from side to side. "NO!"

Shaking her head, Imogen hurriedly put a Disney DVD on, nearly dropping it in her haste. It instantly silenced Tess's protests, making Negan raise his eyebrows. "Wow," he said, watching Tess's wide-eyed face, the toddler now utterly oblivious to everything except what was unfolding onscreen, "that shit is like Novocaine."

"TV is your god, isn't it?" Imogen flung back. "Now you've got another acolyte to worship at your shrine."

"Acolyte, huh?"

"You heard me."

"That's a fucking fancy-assed word," Negan scoffed, "especially coming from you."

"Blame Kit for broadening my intellectual horizons."

"Blame Kit for being a college educated cunt."

"Out, _now_."

Rolling his eyes, Negan followed Imogen out into the hall, trailing his fingers over the keys of the old upright as he did, leaving a discordant melody in his wake.

Imogen led him into the kitchen, not wanting Tess to overhear what would be yet another argument. "You shouldn't have come here yesterday," she said, rounding on Negan, "in fact, I don't know why you came at all."

"I wanted to see my daughter," Negan snapped, "why else would I come to this shithole?"

"You laid down the ground rules, Negan," Imogen snapped back, "not me. You said we don't make it personal."

"That was for us," Negan countered, "you don't show up at my door, I don't show up at yours, and everything is kosher. But with Tess, it's fucking personal, alright? If I want to come here to see her, I fucking will."

"You never bothered before."

"Well, maybe I wanted to piss off your precious brother."

"He doesn't want you here."

"You just brought me here."

"Because he isn't here."

"Well, when he was here, he didn't have the balls to say to my face he didn't want me here."

Imogen's jaw tightened. "For fuck's sake, take that wig off," she suddenly spat, gesturing to it, "I can't talk to you with it on. You look bloody ridiculous."

Rolling his eyes again, Negan took it off, laying it on the counter. "Where the hell did you get it anyways?" he asked, brow furrowing.

"Dana from the diner," Imogen said tiredly, "her daughter dropped out of beauty school, so she gave it to Tess for her dressing up box."

"Maybe you should wear it for me some time."

"Think again, Coco."

"Are you calling me a clown?"

"You bloody look like one."

Negan turned away. "I'll replace the make-up, okay?" he said, making Imogen roll her eyes this time. "So you can stop trying to fucking guilt trip me."

"What, will you replace it like you replace Tess's Barbie dolls?" Imogen said sweetly, making Negan freeze. "You must have cleaned out the toy store at this rate."

Closing his eyes, Negan leaned his head back, running his hand down the side of his face, forgetting about the make-up only to instantly remember. "Shit!" he bellowed, frantically wiping his palm on his jeans, staining the fabric. "Shit-shit-shit!"

"For God's sake, stop being such a big girl's blouse," Imogen snapped, "even if you bloody look like one."

"You got something to get this shit off!?" Negan snapped back, glancing around the kitchen. "I can't fucking leave here looking like this!"

"What the hell are you doing buying Tess Barbie dolls after she rips the heads off the old ones in front of you?" Imogen said, searching for kitchen roll.

"That kid's fucking demonic," Negan said, ransacking the drawers, "that's why."

"You can't keep giving into her."

"What, like you do?"

"Children need discipline," Imogen said, ignoring this observation, finally finding the kitchen roll, "it makes them feel safe. That's why Tess is pushing your boundaries" –

-"Fine," Negan spat, snatching the kitchen roll from her, "I'll fucking lay down the law. Anything else you want to blame me for?"

Imogen bit her lip, caught offguard, thinking of the car they now couldn't afford and the dolls house Negan had so rashly bought and that there was no room for. "That dolls house you bought for Tess's birthday," she said uneasily, deciding on the lesser of two evils, one that Negan was at least responsible for, "there's no space for it."

Negan did a comedic doubletake. "What!?" he said in disbelief. "And you're just fucking telling me this now!?"

"You're the one who bloody bought it without running it past me first!"

"I don't need your permission to buy my own fucking daughter a fucking birthday present!"

"I'm not saying that" –

-"That's exactly what you're saying!"

Imogen took a deep breath. "Can you not take it back?" she hazarded. "Exchange it for something else? Maybe a smaller house?"

"I had it fucking commissioned, Imogen," Negan snapped, brandishing the kitchen roll at her, "it's fucking handmade, top drawer quality shit. It took months to make so I can't just go to the guy, oh, can you make me another house, smaller this time, pretty please, lickety-fucking-split."

Imogen turned away. "Never mind," she said tiredly, taking the kitchen roll from him, ripping off a sheet, "we'll work something out."

"Yeah, whatever," Negan said, watching as she wetted it, Imogen turning the tap off with more force than necessary, "do what you fucking want."

Imogen came over to him. "You can't come to the house again, Negan," she reiterated, dabbing at his face, "I mean it."

"I fucking missed you, kid."

Imogen didn't answer, deliberately avoiding his angry gaze as she halfheartedly resumed trying to clean his face.

"Hey," Negan said, grabbing her chin, forcing her to face him, "I'm fucking spilling my guts here."

Imogen jerked her head out of his hold. "What, you're laying your heart bare?" she hissed, dropping her hand to her side. "The fucking Tin Man has more heart than you!"

"What about you?" Negan flung back, rounding on her. "We're red-hot between the sheets but beyond the bedroom, you're as cold as fucking ice to me. I don't even know why I bother."

"Then why bother?" Imogen challenged. "I mean I don't know why I bother. I don't know why I've bothered to be faithful to you for the past three years. I don't know why I'm even bothering trying to explain myself to you now."

"What, so you want to end it?"

"Do you?" Imogen countered. "I would never stop you seeing Tess, so we can take that off the table. If you want to call it off, do it, I don't care" –

The rest of her words were obliterated out of existence, his mouth crushing hers, Negan knowing her too well, employing his old weapons against her, her flesh craving his as always. Lust had led them here, holding them prisoner and love was a stranger in their midst. It was passion that pulled them together, but if he ever left Lucille for her, would the fire burn out between them if it were no longer fuelled by the forbidden?

"You little fucking cunt," Negan breathed, his hands fumbling with her belt, her own tearing his T-shirt off. "Always got to be a fucking showdown with you, isn't it?"

"Lift me up," Imogen gasped, "I'm getting a goddamn crick in my neck."

Negan lifted her up onto the draining board, grinning despite himself. "That better?" he said mockingly as she drew his dark head down to hers, answering him with her lips. "Hey, maybe we should take this upstairs," he said suddenly, pulling away from her, startling Imogen. "I don't want the brat walking in, ruining the moment."

"I don't have an upstairs," Imogen snapped, wrapping her legs around his waist, before kissing him again, Negan giving in with a groan. Oblivious to everything but each other, neither heard the click of the front door being unlocked, nor the sound of footsteps filling the hall, Kit and Garry coming back from the bar after the pipe had burst again, Garry offering to take a look at it, Kit believing Imogen to be out with Tess.

"I think Imo keeps the plunger under the sink" –

The rest of Kit's sentence was cut off at the sight of Imogen and Negan together, the two of them springing apart, Negan hastily sliding his hands out from under Imogen's vest top. Kit just stood in the doorway, all the blood draining from his face, Negan raising his eyebrows in silent challenge as he picked up his T-shirt from the floor.

"Christopher," Garry said warningly, coming into the kitchen, placing a protective hand on Kit's arm.

"What are you doing here?" Imogen fired at Kit, hurriedly pulling the straps back up over her shoulders, avoiding looking at Garry. She had flung herself at Garry's head when she was eighteen, blinded by his pretty boy blonde good looks, Garry gently but firmly rebuffing her. Even as he acted as if it had never happened, the humiliation of his rejection still stung even now, making Imogen uncomfortable around him.

"I think you should leave now," Garry said quietly to Negan as if Imogen hadn't spoken. He knew about Negan despite having never met him until this moment, Kit having ranted enough about Negan to make Garry feel like he was intimately acquainted with him.

"Is this how you defend your sister's honour by setting your boyfriend on me?" Negan aimed at Kit, pulling on his T-shirt as he spoke.

Garry stepped forwards, fists raised in reflex, making Imogen hastily slide off the draining board, ready to jump between them. But before anybody could react, Tess was there, her small face querulous, clutching Kit's knee, making him return to life.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Kit said, making to pick her up.

"I wanna Dada," Tess pouted, evading his arms. "Whewe's he?"

"Why I'm here, baby girl," Negan said, stooping down, holding his own arms out. "What's up?"

"Come and watch Cindewelly with me," Tess ordered, letting him lift her up.

"Sure thing," Negan agreed, ignoring Imogen's panicked glance. He made to leave the kitchen, Kit hesitating before reluctantly getting out of his way, unable to oppose him as always. But as Negan moved, he slowed to a stop before Garry, so they were almost nose to nose, Negan holding Garry's gaze, making the other man look away, intimidated against his will. A mocking grin spread across Negan's face, and chuckling to himself, he finally left the room, his laughter echoing down the hall.


	4. Smother

**Smother**

Imogen hurriedly set down the plate of steak and fries on the table in front of the trucker, the sweat dripping down the back of her neck. The diner's air-conditioning system had broken down for the umpteenth time, and even with all the windows open, it felt like being in a furnace. Thankfully Lula-Mae was out for the day, as she normally wouldn't allow this boon, always complaining about flies coming in and going into the food. Wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, Imogen made her way back over to the counter where Dana was refilling the condiments, Tiana and Zoe working together in tandem to wipe down the tables.

"Cute customer," Dana remarked, glancing over at the trucker, her gaze shamelessly raking him up and down.

"Our only customer," Imogen corrected her, leaning on the counter, her elbows akimbo.

Tiana glanced around at the empty booths, the sight making her beautiful face uncharacteristically crease with worry. "I know," she said uneasily, "I mean, we've been losin' clientele since this flu outbreak started, but it's never been as bad as this."

Imogen bit her lip, Tiana putting into words one of her deepest fears. The government was still debating over how to deal with the flu outbreak, throwing around phrases like social distancing and public masking, but every day another shop folded regardless. The diner had managed to weather the storm so far, countering the shortfall in customers with a small but steady stream of regulars, but today heralded a new and frightening low. "We took Tess to Carther Park at the weekend," she said uneasily, trying and failing to change the subject, "and the place was nearly empty. Normally the joint is heaving with kids, but it was like a graveyard."

"The whole world is becomin' a graveyard, honey," Dana said, lining up the ketchup bottles. "It's just a question of how long can we keep coffin-dodgin'."

Imogen pushed herself off the counter, thinking of Sara and Casey, both of them now off sick. She had spoken to Sara briefly on the phone earlier, the other woman barely able to string a sentence together without coughing her guts up, and Casey wasn't answering anyone's calls, Imogen finding this oddly ominous, even as Casey had a habit of going on benders and disappearing for days, Lula-Mae only tolerating her absences due to the fact Casey was the daughter of her best friend.

"Well, it's sure as shit becomin' like Russian roulette out there," Zoe declared as she went into the back with a pile of trays, Jose predictably objecting loudly at having his inner sanctum violated.

Tiana came over, running her hand through her Afro as she moved, making it spring wildly around her face. "I suppose there will always be those who'll dodge the bullet," she then said cynically, rolling her eyes as Zoe and Jose began shouting at one another, "but which one of us will it be?"

As they pondered this conundrum, the bell above the door tinkled, Imogen glancing up, only to see Kit coming in, balancing Tess on his hip. She turned away, shoulders hunching, wishing him a world away. After Saturday's debacle, she hadn't been able to look her brother in the eye, the memory of him walking in on her and Negan half-naked still making her wince. Things had been strained between them ever since, Kit avoiding her as much as possible. Today he'd had to take the day off work to watch Tess, Garry minding the bar, but who would look after Tess for the rest of the week and afterwards, Imogen didn't know, unable to find a replacement for Ciara at such short notice, never mind where they would get the cash.

"Hey, stranger," Dana said, fluttering her false lashes at Kit as he came over, "long time, no see."

"Yeah, it's been a while," Kit said distractedly, passing Tess to Imogen, avoiding meeting her eyes. "How are you all?"

"Just about tickin' over, honey," Dana said as Tiana reached over and tweaked Tess's nose, making the toddler giggle.

"Good, glad to hear it."

"What can I get you both today? Just the usual?"

Kit hesitated, thinking of the cost. "Yeah, what the hell," he then said, running his hand down the side of his face, "just the usual with all the trimmings and whatever Imogen wants."

"Kit" – Imogen objected, but Kit waved her aside.

-"Imo, it's okay," Kit said, harassed, glancing over her, brow creasing, "I'll square it and you're too thin as it is."

"Drinks?" Dana pressed, leaning forwards, her ample cleavage almost falling out of its confines. "Some iced coffee?"

"Yeah," Kit said distractedly, glancing around for a seat, "and a chocolate milkshake for Tess."

"Stwawbewwy!" Tess objected loudly. "Now!"

"The queen has spoken," Kit said, rolling his eyes, "strawberry, it is then."

"Sure, comin' right up," Dana said, unashamedly eying Kit's rear as he turned and headed over to a table, making Imogen cringe. Dana was forty-nine but would only admit to thirty-five, a bonafide man-eater with her platinum hair and fake tan. Imogen had encountered Dana's ilk in every diner and truck-stop she'd ever bussed tables at, but what divided Dana from the others was that beneath the bolshy front was a heart of gold.

Imogen watched Kit carry a heavy wooden high-chair over to the table, predictably almost dropping it in the process. "I'll take my break just now," she said, turning to Dana, smoothing down Tess's tumbled hair as she did, repressing the urge to nip out for a quick smoke to steady her nerves.

"No problem," Dana shrugged. "What are you orderin'?" She glanced around her, biting her lip. "All on the house," she added in a low voice with a conspiratorial wink, "since Lula-Mae is screwin' you over with your tips."

"Thanks, Dana," Imogen said quietly, pushing the hair out of her eyes with relief, "I'll just take fries and a soda, please."

Dana nodded, before bustling away, humming to herself as she moved. Imogen hesitated before going over to where Kit was now sitting, leaning his head back against the booth wall. Ignoring him, she carefully put the wriggling Tess in the highchair, removing her Barbie backpack with some difficulty.

"Spawkles!" Tess demanded, drumming her heels against the footplate.

"Give me a bloody minute," Imogen snapped, unzipping the bag and pulling Sparkles out. As she did, Kit got up, rolling his eyes as he went to get some extra cutlery, before dumping it down on the table with a dull clatter. Exhaling sharply, Imogen swiftly set a place for Sparkles, Tess unable to sit peacefully at any table until Sparkles was arrayed in equal splendour.

"Cup for Spawkles," Tess ordered imperiously.

"A cup for Sparkles, please," Kit wearily corrected her, Imogen hastily obliging to obey Tess's order, motioning Kit to stay seated this time.

"Fank you," Tess said perversely. "Dwinkie, now!"

"You need to wait, Tess," Imogen said, sitting down opposite Kit, "Dana's only got two hands."

"Dwinkie NOW!"

"That's enough, Tess!" Kit snapped, making Imogen jump violently. "If your mother says you need to wait, you'll just wait!"

Tess scowled, but mercifully fell silent, kicking her legs back and forth.

"She's been acting up all day," Kit said, glaring at his niece, "at the thrift store, I was trying to look at the cookware section, but all she did was snatch stuff off the shelves and drop that damned unicorn every two seconds. Then she lost it and I had to look all over the shop for it, and so were the staff, Tess screaming blue murder."

"How did you find it?" Imogen said uneasily, straightening the salt and pepper.

"I caught this woman at the till trying to buy it," Kit said, shaking his head at the memory, "I had a fine time trying to explain it wasn't for sale, that it was my niece's lost toy but she thought I was pulling a fast one. The manager had to intervene in the end."

Imogen just nodded, rearranging the salt and pepper again, still unable to look Kit in the face.

"Look, I know you and Negan aren't just holding hands and staring into each other's eyes," Kit suddenly snapped, startling Imogen again, "Tess is evidence of that so you can drop the maiden aunt act."

"Hey" –

-"I'm scarred for life by what I seen on Saturday," Kit cut across her, "but let's just forget it happened, alright?"

"What, so Negan can drop by anytime he wants, then?" Imogen flared up.

"No" –

-"Then don't say stuff you can't back up!"

Kit coloured hotly, her words making him inwardly writhe. His first instinct was to protect his family, but in the face of a threat, Kit would always swiftly and silently capitulate. He knew Negan could knock him into the next life, and only chose not to, not out of deference to Imogen but because it would be beneath him.

Imogen studied him, relenting despite herself. "Look, if he comes to the house again," she said, "I'll deal with him, alright?"

Kit nodded, shoulder hunching. "Does he know about the car?" he said abruptly, glancing up as Dana came over with their drinks, setting them down with a saucy smile aimed in Kit's direction.

Imogen waited until Dana had left, not wanting the older woman to overhear. "No," she admitted, "but I'll tell him."

"And the you-know-what?" Kit said, glancing at Tess, who was wrestling with her straw.

Imogen instantly deduced he was referring to the doll's house. "I spoke to him about that," she said, taking a sip of soda, "but basically it's too late in the day to send it back."

Kit contemplated this. "Get him to deliver to the bar, then," he then said, rumpling up his curls. "We can just put it in the living room or something afterwards" –

-"Kit" –

-"There's no point closing the stable door when the horse is already bolted, is there?" Kit said irritably. "The next problem is wrapping the damn thing."

"We can just throw a cloth over it," Imogen snapped, inwardly cursing Negan's ostentatious gestures. "But he can take it back to the house in his car afterwards. I'm not going to put my back out to suit him."

Kit just nodded, mulling over something. "I have to work at the bar tonight and tomorrow," he then said, jaw tightening. "The pipe is holding – for now, but the water damage is another story."

"I keep telling you I could have fixed it!"

"Look, Garry's jerry-rigged it so it's stopped leaking," Kit countered, "but he can't cover for me at the bar tonight; he's going out for dinner with Sienna."

"Oh, she's back on the scene, then?" Imogen said cattily. "I thought he had a new flavour of the week."

Kit refused to rise to the bait. "Garry's tangled love life is none of my business," he said tersely, "I'm just saying I have to be at the bar" –

-"Then maybe Garry boy shouldn't stick his nose into my private life," Imogen retorted, "not when he's a bed-hopping bastard himself" –

-"Imogen!"

She fell silent, sneaking a guilty glance at Tess, who was too engrossed in her milkshake, having already spilled half of it over herself.

"So if you have a hot date with Lover Boy tonight," Kit then said, his tone stingingly sarcastic as he leant over to wipe Tess's face with a napkin, "you're going to have to cancel your plans."

Imogen stared at Kit, nostrils flaring. Earlier that morning, Negan had texted her a photo of himself of topless whilst staring moodily at the mirror, head bent forwards slightly, his hand resting on the back of his neck, the stance casting his stubbled face into shadow. His arrogance helped carry off the pretentious pose; in anyone else it would have been ridiculous. It had been accompanied by the offer of meeting her at a motel just out of town, an old favourite trysting spot of theirs that they hadn't been to in years, Imogen holding back from answering immediately, pettily enjoying provoking Negan who had already sent several impatient texts wanting to know what the score was.

"Oh, so I have scuppered something, then?" Kit said spitefully, recovering a modicum of his old manner. "Oh, joy."

Imogen's eyes narrowed. "Who's going to watch Tess tomorrow and for the rest of the week?" she said through gritted teeth, trying and failing to keep her composure. "Mary Poppins?"

"I… I ran into Carol actually," Kit said uneasily, leaning back in his seat, "with Ed away on his hunting trip, she said she could mind Tess for the time being."

"We can't pay her."

"I told her that. She said in lieu of cash, you could do some DIY Ed hadn't got round to doing yet. Nothing arduous, just some odd jobs."

"More like stuff Ed couldn't be bothered doing."

"Well, are you up for it?" Kit pressed. "It would give us some breathing space to find something more permanent."

Imogen bit her lip. "It wouldn't be fair on Carol," she pointed out, "she could do with some cash of her own. Ed only gives her enough money for household expenses and even then, she can barely get by. She has to go cap in hand to him and then have him hector her for frittering away his hard earned cash."

"Well, we all know Ed is an animal," Kit said darkly, "that's old news."

"Regardless, I can't take advantage of Carol's good nature."

"You're not," Kit said, raising his gaze to the ceiling, "she's doing you a favour, and you do her a favour, end of."

Imogen hesitated, knowing he had backed her into a corner. "Sure, fine," she then said, throwing her hands up, "whatever."

Kit looked at her for a long moment. "I spoke to Gran on the phone earlier," he said, making Imogen immediately stiffen, "she's trying to organize a committee to provide respite for those in the congregation who are caring for the sick to give them a break now and again."

"Shame charity doesn't begin at home, doesn't it?" Imogen said smartly, making Kit look away, jaw tightening.

An uncomfortable silence fell, Imogen picking up her fork before putting it down again, suddenly losing her appetite, wishing Kit had just shut his mouth. It wasn't the first time he'd tried this, trying to build bridges between his sister and grandmother, but Imogen had instantly shut that shit down. She couldn't forgive or forget what her grandmother had done to her despite the fact she was the only family she had left apart from Kit and Tess.

Ignoring Kit, Imogen leaned over and tidied Tess's hair, reluctantly remembering the terror she'd first felt at learning she was pregnant, little more than a kid herself. She had been intent on having an abortion, sheer panic propelling her on, but Kit had mercifully stopped her, saying it was her choice, and he would support her regardless, but she needed to think things through first before doing something she might regret. It would have been an action executed on impulse, resulting in a decision made out of desperation, and so she had listened, Kit saving her from making the worst mistake of her life.

"Mama!" Tess cried, reaching for Imogen, bringing her back to the present.

"It's okay, I'm here, baby," Imogen said brokenly, taking Tess's chubby hand and holding it in her own, "and I'll always be here."

_All my limbs can become trees_

_All my children can become me_

_What a mess I leave_

_To follow…_


End file.
